


Ground Fighting Techniques

by cueonego



Series: Police Academy [1]
Category: Psych (TV 2006)
Genre: Blowjobs, Coming on Face, D/s undertones, Dirty Talk, Fighting for Dominance, Frottage, Hair-pulling, Hand Jobs, M/M, No Aftercare, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Play, Pre-Canon, Rivalry, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Sparring, Verbal Humiliation, enemies to sex, rough language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-14 00:20:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28912230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cueonego/pseuds/cueonego
Summary: Cadets Conforth and Lassiter spar after class. The sparring match turns very, very heated from their intense rivalry.Or, the story of how they rose up from rivals to spicy fwb rivals 🥴
Relationships: Nick Conforth/Carlton Lassiter
Series: Police Academy [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2197521
Comments: 9
Kudos: 15





	1. The Gym

**Author's Note:**

> It’s my first time writing any fighting sequence, so I hope it’s not too boring/pedantic or confusing. Also, this started out pretty innocent and then it turned pretty messed up very quickly. I tagged most of the things I could think of so please avoid this fic if any of the tags makes you squicky.

  
  


_The Ground Fighting Technique class teaches you how to effectively control someone using different types of control holds. You learn to utilize pressure from your own body without having to resort to strikes or kicks. Ideally, you don’t want to be on the ground with someone you’re trying to arrest, but you might just be one bad decision away from the one pinned down on the ground, squirming for your life._

The instructor’s voice booms around as everyone lines the walls of the gym, waiting to practice their techniques. Tumbling, wresting, holding someone down, and winning. There’s nothing not to love about this class for Lassiter. In fact, it feels like the class is specifically made for him, who thrives on the competition and opportunities to flex his physical prowess.

He always picks out Conforth to spar with, not that anyone else would try to go against the first and second seeder of the class. It also means that everyone’s eyes are on them when they are training. It adds so much to the high and the adrenaline rush, and today is no exception. Lassiter feels the blood pumping and coursing throughout his body. It’s electrifying.

Despite Conforth being smaller than him, he’s not picking him for an easy win. Conforth can be a weasel, so Lassiter has to be on his best game to end up top; they never know who is going to win that day. It makes winning so much more fucking exciting.

On days like today when Lassiter crushes Conforth, seeing the loser squirming under his grip, trying to push him off, and ending up tapping out, he feels alive and galvanized. He stays on top of him just a little longer, feeling Conforth pliant, panting for breath, wincing when his arm presses further into his chest as he gets up.

Yeah, he _fucking_ loves crushing Conforth.

It’s an open secret that he leaves the gym with a hard-on each time.

* * *

Lassiter rides the high from the class into the evening. He’s well aware that his mood is so much better on the days he wins. He savors the memory, feeling Conforth’s body losing its tension as he admits his defeat, the ragged breath, and flushed, sweaty skin enhancing his sweet, _delicious_ look of defeat.

He walks down the hallways of the academy building, fresh out of the shower, ready to turn in for the night. The gym is just around the corner when makes his turn, and he almost stops at his tracks seeing the loser leaning against the wall, next to the entrance to the gym.

He briefly considers mocking him for this morning’s match, but decides that Conforth doesn’t even deserve his acknowledgement. So he walks past by him, keeping his eyes straight ahead, but he can’t stop himself from wondering what the hell he is doing out here; he thought he’d be crying in his bed or studying for the classes like the loser he is.

“Lassiter,” Conforth finally calls out from behind.

“What do you want, Conforth?” he responds, but he doesn’t have any intention of staying for a chat. He continues walking down the hallway, slinging his gym bag over his shoulders.

But what Conforth says actually makes him stop and consider his proposition.

“You want a rematch?” he asks, pushing himself off the wall and walking towards Lassiter.

“Rematch?” Lassiter scoffs, cocking his head. He turns around to see if the guy is off his shits, asking for a rematch after getting humiliated like that in the morning. “You mean you want to lose again?”

Conforth steps in closer into Lassiter’s personal space, his height requiring him look up to Lassiter to deliver his remark.

“I’d be more careful with my mouth if I were you, Lassiter.”

The threat doesn’t carry much weight due to Conforth’s small stature and his squeaky voice, but Lassiter won’t let him challenge him like that without retaliating. He steps in closer, his height easily towering over Conforth as he snarls.

“You still think you can win, huh?”

But Conforth doesn’t back down. That’s what makes him a good picking for his sparring partner.

“If you’re so confident, then what do you have to lose?”

He’s right.

“Bring it on.”

* * *

Lassiter flicks the switch as he enters the gym, flooding the space with harsh fluorescent lights. It looks different at night, _dingy_ almost with the unflattering blue lights instead of the warm and familiar sunlight. And without any bustling bodies filling the gym, it feels cold and empty. In fact, it feels strange occupying the space, trying to fill the large room with just the two of them without an audience.

But the thrill of winning still remains the same for Lassiter. Without the instructor yelling out his instructions, he will be able to hear Conforth groan, shout, and writhe in pain under him better. Lassiter drops his bag onto the ground and steps into the middle of the blue mat in a single motion. If Conforth wants to get humiliated again, he’s ready to give him what he wants.

_If_ that is what he wants. Even though he’s the one who has asked for a rematch, Conforth is more hesitant to enter the arena. He slowly walks across the mat, failing to look at his opponent in the eyes, as Lassiter assumes his position.

“Attack,” Lassiter says, lowering his center of gravity. The blue mat, soaked and cured in sweat going up generations, clings onto his feet as he shuffles around, calculating Conforth’s move.

As always, Conforth comes charging in, using the distance to generate enough force to knock Lassiter down. But his finish is sloppy; instead of holding his ground on top, he stumbles from the impact, leaving himself vulnerable and opening up an opportunity for Lassiter. He’s easily thrown onto the mat, landing on his back as Lassiter gracefully crouches down on him, his long legs stretching out and blocking his escape.

“Really, Conforth? That all you got?” Lassiter taunts, the smug smile spreading across his mouth. He’s already getting fired up from the excitement.

“Well,” Conforth coughs, propping himself up on his elbows. “Pushing me off to the side, you’re not giving me much of a fight either.”

“Don’t want to bruise your self-esteem, Conforth,” Lassiter grins, pushing himself off and extending his hand for him to take. “Whatever’s left of it anyways. Getting slammed into the mat so many times in front of everyone, doesn’t that get _tiring_?”

Conforth rolls his eyes at Lassiter, who is taunting as if he’s never been flipped over before. Selective memory is a hell of a thing, and Conforth wishes Lassiter could see his own face on the days he _does_ lose. He takes the hand, but instead of getting himself off the mat, he catches Lassiter off guard and yanks him in. Conforth pulls himself off the mat using the rebound, and Lassiter falls down onto the mat, face down.

“You were saying?”

Lassiter hears Conforth’s satisfied voice closing in as he feels the weight straddling his back. Conforth collects Lassiter’s hands and pins them to his back as if he is making his arrest, textbook style. He squirms to break free, but Conforth’s thighs are pressing in closer together, squeezing his torso. God, this one actually starts to hurt.

“You’re playing dirty now,” Lassiter growls, turning his head back and trying to glare at Conforth. But Conforth gathers Lassiter’s wrists into his left hand and places his right hand onto Lassiter’s head, pressing it deeper into the mat and preventing him from turning his head.

“I’m sorry, but hardened criminals aren’t going to wait for you to get ready with your fancy techniques,” he mocks, leaning closer and gripping onto his hair.

But Conforth overestimates the size of his hand. Lassiter easily breaks free from his grip and shakes him off his back. Conforth splatters onto the mat on his back, and Lassiter lunges up and tops him in one swift motion. He grins as he looks down on him, his hands pinning his arms by his head.

“You’re never gonna get on top of me, Conforth,” Lassiter growls, leaning into his ear.

“You keep telling yourself that,” Conforth strains, feeling Lassiter’s body easily towering over his smaller frame.

He struggles against Lassiter’s grip, trying to push him away, but his wrists are held tightly against the mat. Lassiter’s knees are by his waist and his weight lies fully on top of his lower stomach, incapacitating his main source of power. He can’t move his body in this position, not one inch.

But even though he knows he can ask Lassiter to reset, he chooses not to, knowing half of the fun for him lies these plays of power. As expected, Lassiter is already rock hard, unashamed of the outline his cock straining out against his grey sweatpants.

So Conforth continues to squirm, feeling Lassiter’s hard cock poking and brushing by his belly every time he scrunches his body. God, so many of the sparring sessions have ended up with him feeling Lassiter’s hard cock nudging against his ass, stomach, sometimes even up to his neck.

“You keep on telling your next moves, Conforth. This is why you can’t ever win,” Lassiter gloats, feeling Conforth rendered powerless under his body.

Conforth wonders whether Lassiter is like this in bed too, requiring total submission from his partner, whispering insults into their ears as he fucks them hard and fast. But he knows not to be pliant for long, lest it starts getting boring for Lassiter.

If there is no disengaging, then one has to use the right techniques and strategic moves to get out from under. Whatever that may be.

Conforth squirms again against Lassiter’s cock, this time deliberately angling his hips. He manages to drag a guttural groan out of Lassiter, his grip loosening from the shock for a split second. Using this advantage, Conforth breaks his arms free and tightly hugs Lassiter’s torso, tucking his head under his arm to leave no chance for him to break free from the embrace.

He weaves his right leg out to the side, placing it outside Lassiter’s foot to leverage himself. He also shifts his right arm over Lassiter’s shoulder to limit the range of his motion, preventing him from being able to catch himself when he falls. With everything in place, Conforth plants his left foot on the mat firmly and thrusts his hips, rolling Lassiter over to his side and right onto the mat.

Within seconds, he’s rolled on top of Lassiter and straddling him instead. Lassiter is knocked out, gasping for air, eyes wide open in shock from being thrown onto the ground unexpectedly like that.

“Where did you pick up that karate kid move?” he pants, impressed that Conforth has managed to break free from his hold.

Conforth looks down on him smugly, his thighs stretched wide trying to straddle Lassiter’s hips and his arms between them.

“BJJ.”

“What?”

“Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu, not Karate,” he clarifies, placing his hands on top of Lassiter’s chest and propping himself up.

When Lassiter twists his body, he feels Conforth squirming to keep his ass squarely on top of his cock. He knows he’s doing this to pin him down firmly onto the mat, but he still can’t shake the feeing of the hot warmth surrounding his length.

It’s common to have someone seated on top of him, straddling as they try to put him in his place. It’s nothing unusual. But Conforth rolls his hips over his girth again, and this time he can tell that this is a slow and a deliberate contact, different from the accidental squirms and struggles one gets while wrestling with someone.

“ _Ah_ — Conforth, what are you doing?” Lassiter hisses, gritting his teeth.

“It’s not a very well kept secret, Lassiter.“

“Wh—“

Lassiter is cut short when Conforth rolls his hips again. His head falls back down onto the mat, mouth and eyes pursed shut and nostrils flaring to prevent himself from letting out a moan. Conforth basks in his victory, but god, the friction feels so damn good that he finds himself humping back against Conforth’s ass. With this, Conforth angles his own hips, putting his own swelling cock against Lassiter’s and grasping onto his sweatshirt. He grinds his hips again, being more vocal about his pleasures than Lassiter who is trying his best to hold his own back.

“You’ve been letting me do that all this time,” Lassiter finally registers. “Letting me get on top of you.”

“You like that, don’t you? Feeling strong, crushing your opponent?”

Lassiter can only growl in response, bucking his hips up for more contact. But Conforth eases himself up, depriving Lassiter from the much needed friction.

“What’s the matter, Lassiter?” Conforth teases, hearing his dissatisfied grunt.

That cocktease. Lassiter doesn’t appreciate Conforth’s attitude, but he presses his eyes shut and lets a deep breath out, so that he can give Conforth one last chance to back off.

“Conforth, I’m warning you.”

“You’re not in much of a position to warn me, Lassiter. Look at you, your cock so hard, losing your focus every time I grind my ass over it,” he says, grinding his hips down again on Lassiter’s cock.

Yeah—fuck—Lassiter does find it hard to focus, hearing Conforth so cocksure but also shuddering every time his hard cock brushes over his. So why not use this to his advantage?

He pushes his hips up towards him to see if he can further provoke Conforth. As expected, he feels another shudder and a moan as Conforth falls forward, putting his weight onto his arms on Lassiter’s chest to collect himself. Lassiter takes the cue to take his arms out from under Conforth’s thighs and pushes him with enough force to have him splattering on his back.

Conforth winces as he tries to calm his breath, knocked out from being shoved off. But this time, Lassiter is not in the mood for fucking around. If Conforth wants to change the game, then he’s going to make sure the fucker gets what he deserves.

He positions himself kneeling between Conforth’s legs and grabs onto his wrists, pinning them outstretched over his head. Lassiter feels the initial resistance, but Conforth soon becomes pliant, spreading his legs open to invite him in further.

Thought so.

“Well it seems like I got you _just_ where you wanted to be, Conforth,” Lassiter says, his voice husky and full of snark.

He presses his hip in closer, lining his own cock up to Conforth’s, and god, Conforth’s eyes close and he shudders like the pathetic failure he is. Lassiter grinds his hips again, growling as he feels his hard cock brush against Conforth’s.

“Do you also get off on me crushing you? Hmm? Is that what you want?” He leans in and whispers into his ears, still grinding his cock steadily.

Lassiter’s mouth grazes by Conforth’s earlobe when he raises his head back up. Conforth moves his head up along, desperately trying to chase his mouth as if he’s magnetized, but he can only go so far.

“Lassiter…” he murmurs bashfully before dropping his head back down, already missing the hot warmth of his breath.

“What, you can do it but I can’t, hmm?” Lassiter says, collecting Conforth’s wrists into his left hand over his head. He lets his free hand slide down his chest, slowly as he feels Conforth’s body trembling under his touch. “Let’s see if you can get yourself out of this, see how much better focus you have.”

Conforth savors the anticipation and braces himself for the contact, feeling Lassiter’s fingers tracing down his chest and his stomach, but when Lassiter finally grabs onto his cock over his sweatpants, he can’t help but let out a groan.

“Fuck, Lassiter!”

“Mmh, what’s your excuse, Conforth?” Lassiter sneers, stroking the cock over his sweatpants.

When Conforth fails to answer him, he pulls the elastic on his sweatpants down, freeing his cock. He looks down and scoffs before he grabs the cock, already aching and leaking from his touch. Conforth twists against Lassiter’s hand, desperate for more, writhing and moaning as Lassiter slowly tugs his cock with a gentle twist.

“Lassiter, God, please.”

“What do you want, hmm? For me to humiliate you in front of everyone again? Where’s your damn self-respect, Conforth?”

“Lassiter…“ he trails, his face falling to the side with his eyes closed and his brows furrowed, letting out pathetic moans after another as Lassiter works his cock.

“Keep your hands up there,” Lassiter commands as he lets go of his hands. He plants his free hand onto Conforth’s head, growling impatiently as he fingers through his hair and grips onto it, so close to the roots that it starts to pinch.

“I bet you enjoy feeling your body trapped under, unable to move a muscle, hmm? How does it feel when you lose and you feel me putting you in your place under my hard cock?”

God, Conforth simply moans instead, feeling Lassiter’s heavy cock still resting on his thighs, his breath heavy and rough, and his hands tugging at his cock. His hands curl up into a fist as he tries his best to keep them where Lassiter has put them.

“I can’t fucking hear you, Conforth.” Lassiter says, pulling on his hair and making Conforth face him. “Open your _fucking_ eyes.”

“Good— ah—“ Conforth admits, his eyes blown wide and his brows furrowed in pain and pleasure. “It feels good, Lassiter.”

“I bet it fucking does,” Lassiter says, shaking his hand off from Conforth’s hair. “Look at you, all submissive and pathetic.”

Conforth can’t hold his hands back from insintively reaching out to Lassiter, but Lassiter pins his hands back where it belongs, pulling his hand away from his cock. His wrists hurt from being gripped onto so tightly, but Lassiter is enjoying this way too much.

And he is too.

“What did I just say?” Lassiter breathes harshly, angry at his disobedience. “I said don’t fucking move your hands.”

Conforth lets out a sharp breath, shaken from his trance and feeling the wet slick on his hands from his cock. Lassiter is still rocking his hips, the fabric of his sweatpants roughly rubbing on the tip of his sensitive cock.

“Sorry,” he offers, wishing he could feel Lassiter’s cock on his without the damn fabric in the middle.

The leaking head leaves a wet trail on the front of Lassiter’s pants, but he doesn’t seem to care. He holds Conforth’s wrists, pinning his body closer.

“You should learn to stay in your damn place, Conforth. Is that understood?”

“ _Yes_ , Lassiter. Please, I want to— I want to feel your cock. On me, please.”

Lassiter lets out a low growl, satisfied by Conforth’s response. He lets go of his grip on his wrists and lets his hand slide down the side of Conforth’s face.

“God, look at you. Begging to be put in your place,” Lassiter says, while grinding his hips still. His hand briefly lingers over his throat, surrounding it and drawing a sharp breath of anticipation from Conforth. He lightly wraps his fingers around his throat, but he lets out a another growl and continues to move his hand down onto his stomach, and down onto his cock. He grips onto it and tugs at it roughly, while his other hand finally frees his own cock from his pants.

Conforth can’t take his eyes off from Lassiter’s cock, also leaking and hard, proportionally bigger than his, and fuck, Lassiter puts the two together in his hands and starts fucking it. Conforth is so fucking close just from finally feeling Lassiter’s hands, Lassiter’s body, Lassiter’s cock, that he yells out, calling out for Lassiter.

“Lassiter— I’m—“

But the game isn’t over for Lassiter yet. He grips the base of Conforth’s cock to stop his orgasm, while still jerking himself off leisurely with the other hand.

“I’m just getting started, Conforth. You think you can just come whenever you want to?”

“Oh god, Lassiter, I—“

He looks up to Lassiter with pleading eyes, but he knows the game is set. He lets his head fall back down, his breath rough and his hair sticking onto his sweaty forehead, giving into Lassiter’s control.

“How are you going to command authority as a cop like that?”

“Lassiter, please.”

“Such a pathetic whine. Is that all you got?”

“Please, fuck, let me come— I need to—“

“Just accept this—fuck—“ Lassiter says, his head also rolling back for a moment as his breath becomes more irregular and ragged. “—that you’re always going to be under me. A pathetic loser.”

“Yes, Lassiter, I lose. I fucking lose. Please, just let me come—“

“Good. I hope you fucking remember that, Conforth. God, you’re so much better under me.”

Lassiter finally loosens the grip and tugs at Conforth’s cock, rough and fast and it’s all he needs. He comes in just a few strokes, moaning and splashing his own stomach and his sweatshirt with his come.

Lassiter discards Conforth’s cock from his hands and walks himself up to Conforth’s chest, his long legs allowing him to walk up on his knees without dirtying himself with the come. He continues stroking himself off once he reaches Conforth’s face, smearing his precome up and down the length and enjoying the sight of Conforth’s face under his cock.

Lassiter’s cock is so close that Conforth could touch it with his lips, but he stays in his place, knowing that’s what Lassiter would want from him. And indeed, Lassiter whispers his praise for staying in his place like the loser he is and grasps onto his hair, pulling his head back and coming all over his face with a strained grunt.

_Fuck._

Conforth lies on the mat with Lassiter’s come on his face, his own come over his stomach, his cock out and shrinking unceremoniously. His breathing returns to normal, and the sweat starts to feel cool on his skin when Lassiter gets up from his neck and walks away.

“Good match, Conforth,” he declares, without looking back at him or offering his hand to take.

Lassiter returns and tosses his towel onto his face, already sticky from Lassiter having wiped his hands and his cock on it. He looks down on Conforth, all used up and spent on the mat, with his gym bag slung on his shoulders, all ready to leave.

“You want it again, you know where to find me,” he utters and turns away.

Lassiter is leaving the gym without looking back.

In the empty gym, Conforth wipes his face with the towel and tucks himself back in. He holds the towel, knowing that next time, he’ll have a better excuse to drop by his room instead of being fucked like this in the gym.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... there are two more chapters whether you like it or not. They are drafted, but definitely nowhere close to completion 😅. I’ll try to work my way through it and get it out as soon as possible, but this chapter can be considered a standalone honestly.


	2. The Chair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Conforth goes to return the towel to Lassiter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More porn in disguise of a backstory. I don’t know how police academies work, but it seems like some of them have essentially dorms and stuff, just depends on where and how they run things.

Despite everything, everything remains the same.

Lassiter’s attitude in and out of class is the same, relentless with his snide remarks, competing to outperform Conforth on all aspects of the academy life. And despite Conforth’s worries, Lassiter continues to pick him out for the sparring matches in class.

Circling each other, grappling, blocking, and focusing on winning the game. Conforth begins to wonder if the events from a few nights ago were a figment of his overactive imagination.

But when they come crashing together, he knows it was real. He knows it was as real as Lassiter’s hard cock that he can feel on him at this very moment. Even through the layers of fabric, his memory fills in all the necessary gaps: the feeling of Lassiter’s cock on his own, the hot flesh sliding together between Lassiter’s hand, and feeling Lassiter’s hot cum hitting his face on this very mat, where he’s helplessly pinned down again.

He relives the memory over and over as Lassiter continues to pound him down on the mat throughout the class. It’s hard not to, feeling the heat, and he wonders if he’s is thinking the same too when he gazes up to Lassiter.

But as they near the end of the class, he realizes that _one_ thing is different.

Lassiter is so, _so_ ruthless to him that the instructor has to step in, seeing Conforth choking and tapping on Lassiter’s arm with urgency. The crowd murmurs when Lassiter finally backs up and offers him a hand to take, which Conforth takes it roughly, stumbling as he gets up. He glares at Lassiter as he rubs his neck, his breathing a little wheezy, his face red and veiny, and _shit_ , his cock aching for the man in front of him.

It’s time to return the towel.

* * *

“Come in,” Lassiter says brusquely, hearing a knock on his door.

His eyes stay on his textbook as he tries to get in as much of the paragraph as he can, ignoring the creak of his door. He has a lot of readings to get through tonight, and he hopes that whatever this is, it’s going to be a quick thing.

“Hey, Lassiter.”

Well, Lassiter has to turn his head towards the door now. Conforth comes into his room, voluntarily but sheepishly, giving out an awkward and a polite wave as he pushes the door close behind him. He walks in, quickly taking in his surroundings before he stops, only few steps away from the door.

“I came to return your towel,” he says, lifting his hand up and highlighting the neatly folded towel that he has brought with him. “It’s washed of course,” he adds.

Lassiter’s eyes flick onto the towel briefly before he glances at Conforth’s face, giving him a sidelong glance and letting his eyes travel up and down his body. Conforth is so small as always, pathetic even.

“I’ll take that,” Lassiter utters, holding his hand out and flicking his fingers impatiently, his body still facing the desk.

“Right.”

Conforth takes a few steps further into the room, but doesn’t dare to approach Lassiter’s desk. He stops short and leans in to pass the towel, falling back quickly when Lassiter snatches the towel out of his hand and tosses it onto his desk. Conforth groans quietly seeing the towel hitting the stack of papers and books on the side, falling into a clump instead of being neatly folded.

Lassiter subtly rolls his eyes and returns to his task at hand, picking his pen back up and expecting Conforth to leave his room.

But he lingers.

Conforth has his hands clasped behind his back and fidgets with his feet, looking down on the ground and stealing glances of Lassiter. Lassiter tries to ignore it, facing the desk and the desk only, hoping he would pick up the cue from his body language. But as stubborn as he is at admitting his defeat, Conforth stands in his place, taking his time to annoy the shit out of Lassiter with just his presence.

Frustrated with this display, Lassiter ends up snapping, swiveling his chair and facing Conforth. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”

He leans back into his chair, crossing his arms over his chest and letting his legs spill out to the sides, his posture demanding Conforth to muss up. He feels Conforth’s eyes on him, flicking between the floor and his face before it lingers on his lap.

It’s not hard to guess what he has in his mind.

But Lassiter continues to glare at Conforth, because he expects him to say whatever he has in his mind. Conforth sure doesn’t deserve to get coddled and spoon-fed like a baby if he can’t even admit what he wants from him. His command is unspoken, but Conforth seems to understand that Lassiter isn’t going to fold first. He slowly shakes his head and straightens himself up, pressing his eyes closed before looking up to Lassiter.

“Lassiter, about the other night,” he says, carefully taking a step forward, with his hand reaching out as if he’s walking up to a dangerous predator. He moves in a way that signals his intention; he’s not approaching to harm but to plead, to _beg_ for a moment of his time.

“What about it?”

“I, uh, I just wanted to say…” Conforth trails, pussyfooting around the topic which Lassiter has no use or patience for.

“Say what, Conforth? I have a lot of shit to get to if you’re done wasting my time,” he interjects and returns back to his desk, picking his pen back up and finding the paragraph that he was reading before the interruption.

“You said if I wanted it again, I know where to find you,” Conforth finally says out loud, desperate to get Lassiter’s attention.

Lassiter pauses his notes, letting a quick puff of air through his nose as he scoffs at the suggestion. He hears what Conforth is saying, but it isn’t quite an overt admission that he is looking for. He presses his eyes shut and cocks his head slightly out to Conforth, opening his eyes just to shoot him a glare.

“And?”

“I…” he pauses. “I was wondering if you would like— if you’d be interested in a rematch, say,” he says, his voice a little proud of coming up with that metaphor.

Lassiter turns his chair again and faces him, pointedly putting his pen down on the desk that it makes an audible ‘click’ as it hits the surface. Conforth is smiling, still thinking that his quirky proposition was good enough of a reason for Lassiter to push away from his tasks.

“What makes you think I want to hear your pathetic cries again?” Lassiter quizzes him, still unsatisfied with Conforth’s approach.

“Oh,” Conforth gasps quietly, shaken from his response. He clears his throat before he slowly nods, his body going limp as he utters “right. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

Lassiter watches him as he weakly throws his hands and starts to walk backwards, stumbling a little when he runs into the door. Conforth looks dejected, thoroughly embarrassed and humiliated by Lassiter’s words. He looks so pathetic when he grabs onto the doorknob and yanks on the door that Lassiter finds himself calling out from behind.

“Conforth.”

It manages to stop him from leaving.

Conforth holds onto the doorknob and lets out a stuttered sigh, preparing himself for what Lassiter is about to say to him this time. Whatever mean shit he has in store for him, Conforth doesn’t know if it can trump the experience of getting turned down like that. He looks back to him, his eyes purposely locking onto Lassiter’s and making sure not to let any of his regret and shame bleed through his façade.

Lassiter stares back at him, unwavering, and a moment passes as Conforth stands at the threshold of Lassiter’s room.

“Close the door,” he says at last, his voice still very commanding.

Conforth sucks his breath in, realizing what Lassiter is suggesting. He closes the door and leans back against it, his hands gripping onto the sides of his pants before he rubs his hands up and down the sides of his thighs, his breathing shallow from the nervousness.

“You gonna stand there all night?” Lassiter asks, cocking his head up and pointing at the door with his chin.

“Right.”

Conforth walks towards Lassiter’s chair, feeling his cock throbbing and embarrassed at his almost Pavlovian response to Lassiter’s commands. He feels Lassiter’s gaze following him closely, the look alone making his legs weak, making him conscious of the way he’s walking, the way he’s breathing, and the way the outline of his cock is starting to show through his pants. When he finally stops in front of Lassiter’s chair, he can’t hide any of his shame behind a false front.

Lassiter takes notice of Conforth’s state, already so hard and desperate, and unfurls his arms.

“Look at you, so hard for my cock already. Your lack of self-control is baffling, Conforth, coming to see me so soon like this,” Lassiter mocks.

Right. _Typical_.

“Shut up, Lassit—“

Conforth is cut short when Lassiter grabs onto his cock over his pants without any hesitation.

“Is this what you wanted, hmm?” Lassiter asks, squeezing his grip on his cock.

Conforth moans, shuddering a little as his nods, his shame already out the door. Lassiter scoffs at his pathetic display and pulls him in closer by his crotch, Conforth stumbling at the unexpected vector of movement.

“Kneel,” Lassiter orders, letting go of his cock and looking up to his face.

Conforth’s breath hitches as he stares back at Lassiter’s face. He controls his breath between his parted lips, slowly lowering himself down and kneeling in front of him, feeling the cold and hard floors under his knees. His eyes land on Lassiter’s plaid pajama pants, bulging out again in front of his eyes. Conforth looks up to his face, his breathing still shallow, but he ends up following Lassiter’s hand back down where he started, his eyes now glued on his cock as Lassiter starts stroking himself over his pants.

Lassiter takes Conforth’s face by his chin and lifts it up harshly to make him face him. He puts his thumb over his bottom lip, stroking and pressing on it before he shoves his finger in, roughly parting his lips open. Conforth locks his eyes with Lassiter and takes his thumb into his mouth, lightly sucking on it, his soft tongue caressing over the pad of his thumb.

“I want to hear you say it your own mouth, Conforth.”

Lassiter takes out his thumb, smearing the saliva and wiping his thumb dry on Conforth’s chin.

“Yes, Lassiter,” he responds a little breathlessly. “I want it. I want your cock.”

“Good,” Lassiter says, his voice almost purring. “Hands behind your back.”

Conforth obeys Lassiter, putting his hands neatly clasped behind his back. He wets his lips with his tongue and looks back up to Lassiter. He’s so commanding and so cocky, but Conforth can’t deny that he’s so _goddamn_ hot when he does that.

Lassiter spreads his legs and plants his feet out to the side, the spot just wide enough for Conforth to fit himself in between. He pulls his cock free, pushing the pajama pants and his boxers down no more than necessary, never giving Conforth the chance to see what else lies underneath. He strokes his cock again a few times, sliding the extra skin up and down, revealing the tip of his cock before hiding it away again.

It’s the same cock that Conforth wondered if he could touch it with his lips as he laid against the mat, before his face was covered with Lassiter’s come. _Fuck_ , his breath shakes and gets heavier as he looks up to Lassiter, waiting for his permission to finally take his cock into his mouth.

“Take it,” Lassiter commands, propping it up with his grip. He commands as if Conforth is his dog, waiting patiently for his bone, but Conforth lets out a breath of relief and walks on his knees, right up to his designated spot.

He leans in, but pauses right before his lips could touch the cock, looking up to Lassiter make sure he is watching him. When he sees Lassiter’s piercing blue eyes down on him, he slowly takes the cock into his mouth, surrounding his lips around it and hollowing his cheeks as he moves his mouth down the length. Lassiter’s cock is so hard and hot in his mouth, and he feels the outline of the veins pressing against his tongue when he puts it against Lassiter’s cock.

“Yeah, just like that, Conforth,” Lassiter sighs out, feeling Conforth’s mouth working his cock.

Lassiter feels Conforth’s narrow shoulders rubbing against his shin as he moves his head up and down to suck his cock. God, he didn’t expect him to go down like this without a fight, but if Conforth remembers his lesson from last time, Lassiter isn’t one to repeat his demonstration.

“Just remember this is where your place is, Conforth,” Lassiter says, moving his hand over to Conforth’s hair, roughly palming it and grasping onto it.

Conforth moans, unclear whether it’s a response or a reaction to his hair being pulled, but Lassiter doesn’t care to find out. He grabs onto his head and starts fucking his mouth, thrusting his hips and pushing down on his head even more.

The head of Lassiter’s cock hits the back of Conforth’s throat, but Lassiter puts his other hand on the nape his head and grips onto it tightly, still fucking his mouth over and over, and _properly_. Lassiter’s grip hurts, almost as if it will leave a bruise, but Conforth likes the feeling, getting owned and claimed by Lassiter’s hands.

It almost feels intimate, even though he can’t touch Lassiter. Feeling his hands on the back of his head, cradling his head with his fingers weaved in between his hair, feeling his cock in his mouth, and taking in Lassiter’s musk. All of that is is enough for Conforth.

Lassiter’s hips pause when his cock is in as deep as it can be, his fingers tightening on his hair as he growls. He yanks Conforth’s head back by the grip on his hair, his hips settling back down onto the chair.

“ _God_ , look at you Conforth. So messy, so dirty.”

Lassiter slides his thumb on Conforth’s mouth, smearing the wet saliva over onto his cheeks. Conforth is dazed and his breath is rough, but he chases Lassiter’s finger as it retreats. But Lassiter won’t let him have everything he wants. He goes back to pushing his head down onto his cock, and Conforth takes it in without any hesitation.

He wonders how it would feel to grab onto Lassiter’s thighs, feeling the muscles rippling under grip, the coarse hair under his palms, whether he could let his hands wander up higher, let them feel Lassiter’s stomach and his chest. But keeps his hands where they are, knowing to stay in his place after Lassiter tells him to.

Lassiter bucks his hips up and presses his head in closer, holding it there with both of his hands on the back of his head. Conforth’s center of gravity is messed up with his hands clasped behind his back, making it easier for Lassiter to pull his head down onto his cock.

“I own you, Conforth. Just like this.”

Conforth’s eyes are welling up and he’s making desperate noises and squirming to break free, but Lassiter pushes in deeper, his legs barely on the chair.

“Fuck, Conforth.”

Conforth looks up, knowing that his face is wet from his tears, saliva, sweat. His brows are furrowing in panic and pain, but he continues to take the cock, and Lassiter seems to enjoy it, that sick bastard. Lassiter lets out a moan, his eyes crinkling as his head falls back, but he immediately comes back up to look at Conforth’s face in disarray, letting out a smirk and finally letting his head go.

Conforth coughs, his breath shuddering every time he wheezes in and out. Lassiter looks almost sorry seeing his face, but his expression changes as soon as Conforth moves to wipe the sweat and the tears on the back of his hand.

“Hey,” Lassiter calls out, grasping onto his wrist. “What did I say about your hands.”

“Aah—“ Conforth yells out, wincing from the harsh grip. “Fuck, keep it where it belongs.”

“Better watch your mouth too, Conforth,” Lassiter warns and lets go of his wrist.

“Sorry,” he lets out under his breath, his eyes laying low as he promptly puts his hands back.

He also moves his head back down to Lassiter’s cock. This time, he lowers it even more and takes his balls in his mouth. Lassiter’s cock rubs on his face without his hands pushing it out of the way, dirtying his face even more with spit, slick, and precome.

But he takes it anyways, taking in his balls one by one into his mouth and lightly suckling on it, planning his retaliation in an only way that he can manage in this position. He nudges his tongue in between his balls, pressing on it knowing that it’s probably going to give Lassiter something he’s never felt before.

Well, would you look at that. Lassiter jumps in his seat and lets out a groan, squeezing Conforth’s shoulders with his thighs. Conforth digs in deeper, chasing Lassiter as he writhes up, still nudging at the spot with the tip of his tongue.

When he settles, Lassiter pushes Conforth’s face out of the way with urgency.

“ _Fuck_ , Conforth. Get off.”

Before Conforth could wonder if he pushed him too far, Lassiter stands up from his seat, his pants still staying in place without revealing much more unfortunately. He looks down on him and growls, taking his cock slick with spit and precome, and puts it in front of Conforth’s face.

Conforth winces as Lassiter rubs and taps his cock on his cheeks, dirtying his face even more, but Lassiter grabs onto the side of his hair, pulling it and commanding him to open up. Conforth’s mouth parts as he lets out a whimper, and Lassiter guides his cock through the gap, stretching it open even more.

Lassiter pushes himself in fully and holds onto the base of Conforth’s head. And fuck, maybe Conforth shouldn’t have provoked him like that, because Lassiter is forcefully fucking his face now, his hips rocking faster and faster, his tight grip on the base of his head fixing his face in its place.

“Who knew you’d be such a cockslut, Conforth.” Lassiter says, thrusting his hips into Conforth’s mouth over and over.

Conforth can’t say anything. He struggles to even breathe and his fists tighten up behind his back as Lassiter becomes rougher and rougher with his thrust, the rhythm becoming irregular until fuck—

Conforth ends up swallowing most of the come when Lassiter comes in his mouth without a warning.

He continues to hold his head firmly in its place as he comes, and Conforth feels the cock pulsing in his mouth, the warm dribble sliding down the back of his throat. He has no choice but to swallow, his throat involuntarily moving in order to prevent himself from choking. When Lassiter finally pulls out, he can cough at last, but it proves to be challenging with his breath so shaky and rough.

He looks up to Lassiter to check whether he could move his arms, but Lassiter walks away again, leaving Conforth kneeling and shivering on his floor. He takes the towel from his desk and wipes his cock before he tosses it to Conforth.

“Take the towel.”

Conforth catches it flying towards him, finally letting go of the clasp behind his back. He nods and wipes his mouth and face on it, but the towel is already sticky in places just as the first time.

“You come back again with that towel next time,” Lassiter says, already having tucked himself in. He extends his hand for Conforth, and Conforth takes it, stumbling a little from his knees legs being numb from being on the hard floor for such a long time.

Conforth doesn’t argue. He nods again quietly and walks to the door, holding onto the towel that be brought with him. With his cock aching, his jaws hurting, his knees numb, and the back of his throat sore, he pauses before he opens the door and looks back at Lassiter.

And again, Lassiter doesn’t look back.

He slips out of the room quietly, a little disappointed, but his mind is racing at Lassiter’s proposition.

 _You come back again_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry........ where do these ideas come from...


	3. The Bed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took forever 🙃

Conforth is standing in front of Lassiter’s door.

Rather, he found himself here with the towel in his hands, _the_ towel he had to wash again like he was Lassiter’s personal laundry service.

He knows what Lassiter has said to him last time, that he should come back again, but he doesn’t think he should actually be here.

Maybe Lassiter is right that he’s a pathetic loser. He really did come crawling back to him. _Jesus_ , he should have a sign on his forehead that says ‘Come on my face and you get your towel washed for free!’

But as much as he hates the idea, he can’t let go of the fact that Lassiter’s stupid cock is big. God, it’s embarrassing, but it’s something that he can’t forget easily. He’s been reliving his memory, thinking about how Lassiter’s cock felt, how Lassiter’s hands felt on him, how Lassiter bossed him around like he knew what was good for him. It makes him shudder in excitement.

And maybe, just maybe, he wants to believe that he’ll get something better out of seeing Lassiter this time. At least, Lassiter has said that he had a lot of work to do last time, so that’s probably why he couldn’t give him anything in return. It makes sense.

A lot of work—who is he kidding? It’s _Lassiter_.

Maybe Lassiter has him under some sort of spell, but he doesn’t know why the hell he let Lassiter fuck his mouth and kick him out of the room like that. He left the room without arguing, because he was so enthralled by his suggestion that he should come back. But he couldn’t even jerk himself off once he got to his room, because he was so… _pissed_. All of that without getting anything in return. All of that while getting talked down like that.

There’s no use in mulling over it. He’s here, and he’s not going to back off. He’s going to make sure he gets what he wants this time. He deserves better.

He bangs on the door, but doesn’t wait for Lassiter to answer it. He barges into Lassiter’s room, and hell, see if he cares if he didn’t have his permission to enter. If it startles him, then well, _good_. See how much he cares. He’s here to say what he should have said a long time ago, and he’s not going to care about how Lassiter feels.

Lassiter sits up from his bed when he notices him. He scans him slowly, and just from seeing the towel in his hands, he dons that arrogant smirk that makes his face look so detestably smug.

“You’re back,” Lassiter says.

“ _Yeah_ , Lassiter. I’m back,” Conforth says sharply, annoyed at Lassiter’s attitude to no end.

“Took you longer than I thought. So, what do you want?”

“What do I— What the fuck do you think I want?” he lashes out, throwing the towel at Lassiter’s bed.

But Lassiter simply scoffs and gets up from the bed, rustling the comforter and bringing his long legs down onto the ground. Conforth can’t help but notice Lassiter’s plain white t-shirt pulling across his upper chest, while the rest of the relaxed fabric drapes and falls from below. Jesus, he’s gawking, but the dark shadow peeping out from the collar of his shirt makes him almost forget what he came here for.

Conforth gulps down when Lassiter gets up from his bed and starts walking towards him, his bare feet pattering against the hard floor that he was kneeling on just a few days ago.

“Oh, I don’t know, Conforth,” he starts. “Let me guess, you’re here to get fucked again. To be humiliated like the pathetic loser you are. How am I doing so far?”

The smug asshole stops in front of him, his height imposing and his relentless mockery downright callous. Conforth’s hands curl up into a tight fist by his sides, because he would like nothing more than to swipe that smug smile off his face. It’s a fair fight he knows he has a chance of winning.

Lassiter’s face is daring; it’s as if he wants him to strike first.

Bastard.

So Conforth lets out a bitter laugh instead, shaking his head so he doesn’t fall into his obvious trap. He shouldn’t react to it and feed into Lassiter’s _stupid_ fantasy that he can do whatever the hell he wants to do to him.

“ _God_ , Lassiter. You know what?” Conforth sighs out. He should end this arrangement, whatever the fuck this is, for the sake of his sanity. He should have ended it before last time happened.

But when he looks up to see Lassiter grinning at him, making a play out of _bullying_ him, despite his rational mind telling him to let go, everything flies out the window.

“Fuck you.” Conforth shoves Lassiter back as hard as he can.

Lassiter stumbles back, simply chuckling in response as if any of this is funny. He returns right back to his spot in front of Conforth, catching and holding onto his wrist when he reaches out to shove him again.

“Am I wrong?” he asks, the arrogance exuding from his voice.

Conforth struggles to get his wrist free from his grip, but he soon stops resisting, seeing the futility of it all. Lassiter loves feeling strong and the more he resists, the more Lassiter is going to enjoy killing his spirits, stomping on them until there’s nothing left over for him to salvage. He knows it’s going to be easier on him to bend to Lassiter’s will.

“Why do you _always_ have to be like this, Lassiter?” Conforth pleads, because they should be able to deal with this like adults. But Lassiter stares at him, raising his brows as he lets his question dissipate. There is no trace of the question left in the air when Lassiter asks his own question again.

“What do you really want?”

Persistent bastard. _Now_ he’s so interested in what he wants?

It’s most likely that he’s doing this to further humiliate him, get to admit that he just fucking wants Lassiter’s cock. But Lassiter is right. Conforth wants to let him take control of him, let him be in charge and tell him what he should be doing, let him manhandle him like the first time they ever did the deed in the gym.

He _is_ here to get fucked.

“I…” Conforth pauses to carefully select his words. “I deserve more than what you did to me last time, Lassiter.”

He looks up to him, hoping he can pick up on what he’s suggesting. But Lassiter is amazingly talented at making people feel flustered with his silent gaze. Even though the silence is brief, Conforth feels scrutinized under it.

There’s a movement on Lassiter’s face finally; it’s another _goddamn_ smirk. “Awh, you do, huh?” Lassiter mocks, pouting his lips to drive his point further.

“Alright, that’s enough of this,” Conforth mutters, shaking his hand out from Lassiter’s grip with resentment. “Seriously. _Fuck_ you, Lassiter. Who do you think you are?”

“What, you’re mad about last time? I thought I was giving you what you wanted, Conforth. You said so yourself that you wanted to suck my cock.”

“Yeah, well, I only did that because you came at me with your— your _angry_ cock during class in front of everyone!” Conforth glares at him, his hand extending pointedly out towards Lassiter’s crotch.

“It wasn’t meant for you,” Lassiter claims, rudely pushing him back with his index finger to his chest. “And I warned you plenty when _you_ first started with that shit.”

Conforth swats Lassiter’s hands away. “ _Bullshit_. Then why do you keep on picking me out, Lassiter?”

For once, Lassiter goes silent and Conforth knows he’s on the right track.

“Yeah, that’s right, Lassiter. You need me. You _want_ me. You’re just too much of a pussy to admit it, aren’t you?” He knows he’s hit the nail on the head with his question.

Lassiter goes defensive, crossing his arms in front of him and shaking his head from side to side as he scoffs. “Are you quite finished?”

Conforth lights up seeing Lassiter like this; if he doesn’t have an insult in his comeback, he knows that Lassiter is thrown off his game. It’s the perfect time to show him that he’s also capable of bossing him around.

“You know what? No,” he says, shoving Lassiter against the wall.

Lassiter looks at him, surprised, perhaps more bemused at his behavior.

“Well, would you look at that, Conforth,” he says, pleasantly amused. “Are you in the mood for some roleplay where you actually win this fight?”

Conforth is on a roll. “Shut the _fuck_ up, Lassiter,” he shouts, and steps forward to press his forearm against Lassiter’s neck. “It’s not a fucking roleplay. How about _you_ stay like that?”

He trembles with the adrenaline pumping through his system, coming from the thrill and the high of finally showing Lassiter what he’s made of. Lassiter’s face is tilted up and resting against the wall, making it more evident when the lump of cartilage on his neck moves up and down as he swallows.

Conforth has fought Lassiter many times in class, so he should know what needs to be done to win. But without the structure of the sparring match, he feels paralyzed, totally lost in not knowing what to do with himself.

He doesn’t know where he is going with this, and neither does the autopilot that has taken over his body. Shit, every second that passes by in his inactivity, he knows Lassiter can see through him. Now trembling in his lost state, Conforth finds it hard to lock his eyes with Lassiter’s.

As he stares at the wall besides Lassiter’s ear, he feels the vibration that comes with Lassiter’s chuckle on his forearm.

“Yeah, like that’s going to happen,” Lassiter chimes in, breaking him out of his spiral.

Lassiter shoves him back so hard that Conforth stumbles backwards onto the floor. Without the mat to cushion his fall, his breath is knocked out, and the sharp pain of the fall starts radiating from his hips and his elbows. Paying no mind, Lassiter kneels over on top of him, laying his hand on top of Conforth’s chest. That bastard then enjoys pushing a painful groan out of him.

But with Lassiter taking control, he’s back to the familiar groove. His body hurts all over, but his racing mind calms down, because he can let Lassiter lead this match.

“Is this it, Conforth? Gosh, you really gotta tell me because it’s so hard to tell. I honestly thought you just wanted to suck my cock.” Lassiter also sounds excited about this, grinning and glaring all at once, seeing Conforth struggle against him.

“Fuck— Fuck you, Lassiter. You’re a fucking bastard,” he manages, but he’s grateful that he is back where he actually belongs.

“That’s more likely, Conforth,” Lassiter says, pushing off Conforth’s hands when it comes flailing towards him. “Struggling under me. You were too easy last time that I got bored of playing with you.”

“I’m not your fucking toy, Lassiter,” Conforth retorts. He tells himself that he’s fighting back, but the truth is, he likes being bratty for Lassiter’s enjoyment. He—fuck—he thinks he would rather like to become Lassiter’s fucktoy.

“Tell me what you fucking want, Conforth,” Lassiter growls, leaning over him and pressing his forearm into Conforth’s throat. His face hovers right above his, and he feels the intensity in his eyes as he waits for Conforth to admit the fact.

But Conforth is quiet. He finally realizes what he wants and where his place is, but he can’t admit the fact himself. He wants Lassiter to simply take it from him, because he’s the real fucking pussy in this room, unable to ask for _the_ one thing he wants.

Lassiter growls in annoyance as the silence grows longer, and pushes himself off from Conforth. As he feels the weight lifting from his body, Conforth presses his eyes shut, clenching his jaws down, because of course, Lassiter is going to send him away for being boring.

But Lassiter does just the opposite.

“Take your shirt off.”

“What?”

“Take your damn shirt off.”

Conforth props himself up on his elbows and stares at him in confusion, his chest rising and falling in silence and his damn cock stupidly jerking in response.

“You said you wanted something more, Conforth. Take your shirt off,” Lassiter demands again.

Conforth sits up slowly as he gazes up to Lassiter. He tries to control his breath so as not to seem overly excited, but his heart is beating faster, thumping against his chest as he carefully takes his shirt off over his head. He holds onto the balled up shirt in front of his belly, not because he’s bashful but because he feels like he needs to hold onto _something_.

He looks up to Lassiter expectantly, and Lassiter nudges at his sneakers with his foot. “Shoes and pants,” Lassiter orders.

He glowers at Lassiter, but he kicks his shoes off anyways and gets up, pulling his pants down but pausing a little bit before he steps out of the pool. He hates that Lassiter is fully dressed and that he’s not, but his cock sure seems to love it.

“Underwear.”

“Lassiter—”

“Take them off or you’re leaving.” He stands closer to him, reaching out and feeling the wet spot that’s forming in front of his boxers. Fuck, Conforth can’t stop wanting it.

Conforth gulps and closes his eyes, hooking his fingers on the band of his boxers and pushing it down to let it fall onto the ground.

“God, look at you, stripping down to nothing when I tell you to,” Lassiter promptly gloats, but his voice is husky and low, surprisingly lacking the mocking tone.

He continues to stoke Conforth’s cock with a loose grip, and even though Lassiter’s gloating should make him furious, his anger seems to be getting channeled into his arousal. He’s letting out shivering breaths when Lassiter’s fingers caress his neck and slide down to his chest. He’s not sure if he’s fuming from the anger or getting _extremely_ turned on from Lassiter’s eyes gliding down his naked body, and his _damn_ hand diligently stroking his cock.

Lassiter leans in further, placing his mouth hovering over Conforth’s ear. He crooks his neck, lowering down towards where his neck meets his shoulder. The puffs of breath alone send shivers down Conforth’s spine. It almost feels like he is about to kiss his neck, god, that would make him come so fast in Lassiter’s hand, but Lassiter pulls back. Conforth can’t help but look up to him, with his mouth parted and letting out trembling breaths.

The satisfied smile on his face tells him everything—the bastard is teasing and toying with his response, he just knows it. He doesn’t want to fall for all these obvious traps, but when Lassiter kneels down in front of him, he hurriedly presses his eyes shut with a gasp.

He doesn’t want to get too excited about it before he knows for sure _that’s_ what’s going to happen. But when he feels Lassiter’s hands grabbing onto his waist, he has to open his eyes to see it. Carlton Lassiter, sucking his cock. Can you imagine?

But Lassiter turns him around, collecting his hands behind his back.

“What are you doing, Lassiter?” Conforth yells out in panic.

Lassiter ties his wrists behind him, with what feels like his shirt that he has discarded onto the floor. He then shoves him down onto his bed, Conforth falling onto it face first without his hands to catch himself. He squirms and props himself up on his knees and shoulders so he can lift his head up, because he wants to see where Lassiter is going to attack from.

But Lassiter is gone from his field of vision, and the only thing he can hear is the drawer rattling open behind him.

Lassiter walks up next to the bed, back into Conforth’s view. Now he can see him holding onto a bottle of lube, and holy shit, Lassiter is taking his shirt off, revealing his well toned torso. Crap, Conforth might have let out a pathetic gasp seeing Lassiter’s skin for the first time.

Lassiter doesn’t linger to put on a show, though; he discards his shirt over his chair and disappears again, and Conforth feels the bed dipping down behind him shortly after. Lassiter’s presence is hot behind, and he feels his warm hands stroking down his back, then wrapping around his waist to pull him back towards him. God, Conforth feels Lassiter’s cock still under his sweatpants against his bare ass.

“Lassiter, please.”

“Please what?” Lassiter asks, his voice low and steady.

“Screw you for making me say it every time.”

“Well, I don’t want to assume what you want, especially since it sounds like I misunderstood you last time,” Lassiter says, and he promptly moves onto assuming that he would want him to grind his hips against him.

Conforth can feel the outline of his hard cock rubbing against his ass. And yeah, Conforth lets out a moan, because he’s never wanted anything more desperately. “God, you’re an asshole, Lassiter.”

“I’m not gonna ask again. What do you want?” He asks, leaning over Conforth’s back and letting his right hand travel down his stomach.

Conforth lets out a desperate moan when Lassiter grabs his cock, stroking it with a firm grip. “Fuck— please,” Conforth says, helplessly bucking his hips into Lassiter’s hand.

But Lassiter silently works his cock, letting Conforth fuck his hand as he waits for him to say the word.

“Are you just here to get a handjob, Conforth?” he asks again with a finality when he continues to maintain his silent grind.

“N—no,” Conforth pauses, stopping his hips from moving any further. It eventually spills out of him: “Fuck me, Lassiter, _please_.”

“Mmm,” Lassiter growls. “There it is.”

Lassiter takes his hand off Conforth’s cock and grabs onto his ass. He thumbs over his hole as he squeezes the lube onto it, pressing it lightly and teasing it before he inserts his index finger in. He wastes no time and his finger turns into two, three, and Conforth is moaning and rocking his hips, trying to get more of Lassiter’s fingers inside him.

Lassiter is roughly stretching him, roughly lubing him up, and even though it stings, Conforth has never wanted anything more.

“Just fucking do it already, Lassiter,” he demands, unable to wait any longer. All he can think about is that hard, massive cock in his ass.

“Calm down, Conforth.”

He’s far from being able to calm down; Conforth lets out an annoyed groan into the bed, like a child throwing a tantrum, because he’s so desperate for Lassiter’s cock.

“Fuck,” Lassiter gasps. “I didn’t know you were this desperate to get fucked.”

If Lassiter meant to be mean, it fails to come across. Conforth can just _hear_ the arousal in his voice too. That bastard, thinking he could make him think that it was just him pining over him. Lassiter better—

“Oh god, Lassiter!” he yells out when Lassiter shoves his hard cock into his hole without a warning.

“Shhh, be quiet Conforth,” Lassiter says, stopping himself and sounding strained himself too. “These walls aren’t exactly soundproof. Unless you want to be known as the sissy of the class, you better keep it down.”

Conforth nods, but the moans are still spilling out of his mouth. He buries his face in the bed to muffle himself with the sheets, but it’s not enough to stifle them. Lassiter peels his hands off from his hips and surrounds his body, hugging him closely as he puts his hand on his mouth and wraps his other arm around the front of his chest. It helps with muffling the moans, but he can’t exactly stop the groans, his voice grinding on the back of his throat as Lassiter continues to press inside of him.

Lassiter’s body is so hot against his, and he can feel his muscles rippling, his chest expanding and contracting against his upper back and his bound arms. When he adjusts his hands, he can feel Lassiter’s stomach on his palms, and the coarse hair that must lead down to his cock. He feels the hair rubbing against his hand as Lassiter roughly takes him, enveloping Conforth’s body from the top. Fuck, he doesn’t understand how Lassiter expects him to be able to keep it down; it seems almost impossible.

But somehow, he slowly gets used to Lassiter’s size and the intensity of his movements. Once he quiets down to small whimpers matching the strokes of Lassiter’s cock, Lassiter takes his hand off his mouth and lowers it down to his throat ( _what the fuck_ ), his other arm bolstering his grip on his chest.

“Is this what you deserve, hmm? Getting fucked like this, like you’re some fucktoy?”

Well shit, Conforth can’t say much back to him because he’s choking from Lassiter’s grip. He feels the blood pooling on his forehead as it throbs, but he wants to say yes, say that he fucking deserves this. He deserves Lassiter’s hard cock pounding into his hole over and over.

Lassiter loosens his grip just in time for another one of his snarky comments. “God, look at you, so pathetic and weak, begging to be used like this, walking into my room with your excuses.”

“Fuck you, Lassiter,” Conforth gasps. “You’re having fun choking out a guy smaller than you.”

“Oh, but you like this, Conforth. Getting stuffed full of my cock, me using you like this,” Lassiter says, completely ignoring his protests.

“Fu— fuck you, Lassiter,” Conforth responds, but he fucking loves it.

“Mmhmm, I bet.” Lassiter seems to understand it.

He lets go of his hold and grabs onto his waist, his big hands allowing him to almost surround the entirety of it. He pulls his ass down onto his cock over and over, and Confoth’s cock aches so much every time it grazes the sheets on the bed, every time Lassiter’s cock grazes his sensitive spot. He’s so close to coming, letting out panting groans that he tries his best to muffle by biting on the sheets.

Lassiter’s hand roams around his back, feeling his skin like he owns every inch of it, before it settles on his ass. He grabs it tightly, and growls “I knew you’d have such a tight hole, always walking around like you have a rod up your ass.”

Conforth’s attempt at rebuttal goes south when Lassiter slaps his ass with a firm hand, seemingly out of nowhere.

“Ah— Lassiter—” Conforth is out of words, the pain, the pleasure, it all seems fitting coming from Lassiter. He pushes his hips back for more and more, unashamed of what he wants from him.

But he’s lacking the stimulation he needs to push him over the edge.

“Please, please— I want to come,” he pleads.

“Then come.” That’s all Lassiter has to offer.

“I— I can’t. I need my hands. Untie me, please.”

“Too bad Conforth,” Lassiter says, his words punctuated by his thrusts. “That’s where your hand belongs, so you better learn quickly.”

His voice is more strained, but he holds onto the knot on his wrists and continues to pull him down onto his cock and—

“Fuck, Conforth—”

Lassiter comes, and Conforth feels his cock pulsing inside him, spurting out the warm liquid inside. Fuck, he’s so close, but Lassiter’s thrusts turn slower and slower until he slumps on top of him, the dead weight halting any movements altogether. He tries to move his hips for his pleasure, but Conforth feels so small and useless with Lassiter’s body draped over his, with his cock stretching his ass, and unable to move an inch.

It lasts for only a moment as Lassiter withdraws out of him. The rustles behind him are brief before he feels Lassiter getting off the bed, leaving him tied up and his cock hard and aching for attention.

Conforth has to roll onto his side to find Lassiter, and he finds him standing by the foot of the bed, looking at him and chugging down a bottle of water. He doesn’t offer any word when he finishes the bottle; he simply stands there in his sweatpants as he breathes in and out, the flush of his face extending all the way down to his chest.

“Are you gonna untie me?” Conforth asks, getting tired of being tied up.

“Dunno,” Lassiter responds, walking back up to the side of the bed.

“You’re a real piece of work, you know that?”

Conforth wiggles as he tries to scoot himself off the edge of the bed to stand up, feeling his cock growing softer. He should have known Lassiter was going to be like this.

But Lassiter pushes him back on the bed, standing imposingly and blocking his escape.

“What are you afraid of, Lassiter? Untie me!” Conforth shouts, with his legs hanging off the edge of the bed and his hands digging uncomfortably into his back. He rolls slightly onto his side to push his hands out of the way, hoping Lassiter would undo the knot and set him free.

But Lassiter leans in between his legs and grabs onto his cock. “You’re going to come, Conforth,” Lassiter mutters, stroking it just to make it hard again. He lets go of his grip when Conforth writhes and arches under him, that teasing bastard.

“ _Jesus Christ_ , Lassiter, just a bit more, please.”

But Lassiter rolls him onto his stomach and pulls on the knot on his wrists. Conforth lets out a sigh and rubs on his wrist, feeling the indentations on his skin.

“So come,” Lassiter says, standing upright and looking down on Conforth.

“You–you’re going to help, right?” Conforth asks, bringing his dangling feet up and pushing himself back onto the bed fully.

“I haven’t decided.”

“Why am I jerking myself off in front of you?” Conforth asks, wondering if Lassiter sees the ridiculousness of what he’s asking of him. “I can do that in my room on my own.”

“You said you wanted to come, so come.”

“I— Are you for real? You can’t even be bothered to help a guy out after blowing your entire load inside him? Which, by the way, thanks for asking?”

Lassiter shrugs, clearly not seeing what’s wrong with any of it. Conforth glares at him, and out of spite, he grabs onto Lassiter’s hand and pulls him in, guiding his hand over to his cock and holding it there in place.

Lassiter doesn’t resist; he grips onto his cock, and when Conforth lets go of Lassiter’s hand, he stays there, holding onto his cock and climbing back onto the bed in between his legs.

“So make me come, Lassiter,” Conforth says. “I don’t expect you to suck my cock, but I expect you to make me come.”

Lassiter looks up to Conforth as he hesitantly strokes it, and it’s the first ever time seeing Lassiter so unsure of himself. He’s not unenthusiastic, because Lassiter is gripping onto his cock with his mouth slightly apart, his eyes transfixed onto it, but Lassiter seems suddenly lost, after having done so multiple times before.

“What, you don’t know what I want?” Conforth asks, and yes he’s teasing him back, because Lassiter really deserves it.

“I—”

“Come on,” Conforth says, rolling his eyes and stopping Lassiter from having to explain himself.

He puts his hand around the back of Lassiter’s neck and pulls him close, positioning him over him with one hand on his cock and the other by his shoulders.

Lassiter is stiff, but he doesn’t resist when he pulls him in closer and kisses him while cradling the back of his neck. Conforth moves one of his hands to surround Lassiter’s hand on his cock, guiding him to move his hands just the way he likes it.

He pants and writhes under Lassiter’s touch again, and Lassiter presses in deeper into their kiss. Conforth sweeps his hands down Lassiter’s back, and soon, he comes, moaning into the kiss and splattering his stomach and their hands with his come.

Conforth’s lips linger on Lassiter’s, just to make the moment last, but good things don’t last long with Lassiter.

“Good,” Lassiter breaks the silence and pulls back, maybe a hint of breathlessness lining his voice. He clears his throat and chuckles quietly and nervously as the awkward silence (which, Lassiter created himself by pulling back) grows longer.

“You’re like a girl, kissing and shit to get off.” Is what he chooses to say.

“Jesus.” Conforth pushes Lassiter off from him and picks up the towel next to him. He cleans himself up in silence while Lassiter sits next to him and stares at him, also quietly.

“You are a _real_ piece of work, Lassiter,” he says, tossing the towel back on his bed after he’s done.

“Me?”

“Yeah, you.”

He scoots himself around Lassiter still kneeling in front of him, and quickly puts his clothes back on in silence. And Jesus, he’s sore. He’s sore pretty much everywhere, and he feels the ghosting impressions of Lassiter’s hands on each of the spots.

“I think that’s enough of that.“ Conforth says, looking back at him when he leaves the room.

Lassiter doesn’t come to stop him.

* * *

That’s how their little affair ended. Conforth didn’t, or rather couldn’t understand Lassiter and his stupid ways. Okay, he knew why, but he was tired of having to understand that that was how he worked.

They promptly returned to their routine as if nothing had happened between them, and Conforth finally managed to beat Lassiter by a point on the final exam. Their little game was over.

The field wasn’t his thing, and Lassiter excelled in it, so they went on their separate ways. And so the years went on.

Or so he thought.

When Conforth sees Lassiter walking into his academy building after all these years, he can’t believe his eyes. His face lights up in delight, because it’s _The_ Carlton Lassiter. Apparently he’s the head detective in charge of the whole department, commanding authority and respect. It suits him, he thinks. _God_ , he’s older with hints of grey hair and he’s dressed smartly in his suit, but it’s still the same old Lassiter.

He wonders if—well he doesn’t know if Lassiter is a bachelor, but he wonders if he could have a drink with him afterwards, just to reminisce about their academy years. Man, those years.

But of course, it seems that Lassiter hasn’t changed a bit since the academy. He’s the same old _goddamn_ Lassiter, coming in with all these insults and mockery again. He thought he moved on past this, that he’s better than this, but they fall back into the same pattern as if nothing has changed.

It clicks just the same.

And shit, Conforth can feel that he’s falling for this man and his stupid ways again. He wonders whether Lassiter remembers the _thing_ between them, or if it had been just one of his many conquests that he’s forgotten and moved past on.

…or has he? Lassiter circles around him, eyeing him like a predator observing his prey. He can’t help but get _excited_ under his gaze.

Come on, they have an audience, for gods sake. Shame on you, you lecherous bastard, this is the academy, have some respect!

But Lassiter furthers the torture and whips out the baton, and dear god he feels a jolt going through his groin. This is bad; all he wants to kneel in front of him and—

God, this is going to be a long week.


End file.
